where is this massive rumbling coming from while i am only trying to make breakfast<\/p>\n\n\n\n
it is not my stomach it must be my nerves
it is not my nerves it must be the house
it is not my house it must be the world<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the sky goes dark the clouds gather low the thunder moves through the ground and up through the soles of my feet
and no rain it carries will reach this thirst because this thirst was built somewhere rain has never once been able to go<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the thunder grows into a storm
the storm grows into hail
the hail begins to sound like something trying to get in though there is no door left in this house it has not already found<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we think the storm is happening to us
we think we are small and the sky is large
we think if we wait long enough someone else’s weather will finally pass<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but the thunder will not stop until the world stops living against itself
it will not stop until a person stops living against their own person
it will not stop until the one inside the house stops mistaking the house for the enemy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
so long as we believe the storm belongs outside us we will keep building rooms to hide from it
so long as we keep building rooms we will keep discovering the storm was already sitting in the last one waiting<\/p>\n\n\n\n
this is the part no teacher can hand you and no student can skip
you cannot end a war by winning it
you can only end it by seeing there was never a second side to begin with<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the storm was not trying to reach you
the storm was you reaching for yourself the only way anyone ever taught it how<\/p>\n\n\n\n
when this is finally seen nothing outside changes
the sky may still be dark
the thunder may still move through the ground
but you will no longer stand in your kitchen mistaking your own heartbeat for the end of the world<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and if you can see that much even once even for the length of one breath while the kettle finishes boiling
then you have already done the only work any of us came here to do<\/p>\n\n\n\n
put the kettle down
sit in the middle of the noise
and let yourself finally be still enough to grieve every year you spent fighting a storm that only ever wanted to come home<\/p>\n\n\n\n
lyra moon (the thunder was never the sky’s it was mine waiting to be forgiven)
september 6, 2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
where is this massive rumbling coming from while i am only trying to make breakfast it is not my stomach it must be my nervesit is not my nerves it must be the houseit is not my house it must be the world the sky goes dark the clouds gather low the thunder moves through…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":169,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-167","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"yoast_head":"\n